Mac had assumed he was going to handle his meeting with Thornton with the same level-headed scientific approach he'd tried to handle everything else to date. But she spoke first.
"Care to explain why you aren't using your crutches?"
It immediately raised his hackles. Instead of actually explaining his reasoning, which was certainly sound based on everything he'd read, he just said, "Not really," in a voice that was nearly flat, but for the tinge of annoyance he couldn't keep out of it.
"Was Dr. Anderson not clear with you about my orders?"
Mac shrugged, taking a seat without being asked. He didn't need the damned crutches, but that didn't mean he felt like standing on that leg for extended periods just yet. "Orders, ma'am? I read the organizational chart in the briefing materials you sent me and I guess I'm not clear about how the DO making my healthcare decisions for me fits into that."
This time his tone had taken on a little bit of a challenge.
Thornton's expression was unreadable. It was almost as though she'd expected him to come in with an antagonistic attitude. "Let me clarify for you then." Her eyebrows climbed a bit. "You were a soldier. Surely you've been told that if you damage government property anyone in charge of you can issue an Article 15 for destruction of government property. Well, Mac, as I already explained, technically at DXS, you still work for the government, even the same cabinet organization as when you were EOD."
Mac shook his head, trying to keep the smirk off his face. "Ma'am, I appreciate the application of that tactic. But it's a myth. Nobody, not even the jarheads, actually think any enlisted man or woman is government property. Well, okay, the Marines maybe do a little. But the Uniform Code of Military Justice just doesn't support that."
She looked surprised and he felt like he should keep going. He hated intimidation as a tactic for superiors to get what they wanted out of you. It reminded him … well, of his childhood. He wasn't about to feel like that again all the time. He wasn't a child and he had no intention of being treated like one, or mistreated like one, as the case may be.
"The best medical information I've found says I need to be using this leg or it'll be worse in the long run. If I were still a soldier, and I'm not, you could site me for not following medical orders, but the only proof you'd have would be if I'd caused harm to myself in that fashion. And it still wouldn't be because I was anybody's property, ma'am."
The Cheshire Cat smile made an appearance. "Well, you're better informed than most, I suppose."
"Count on it, ma'am. Information is important to me."
She tilted her head in what Mac interpreted as a slight nod. "Which is why you will be invaluable in the job I have in mind for you once we get you properly trained and perhaps better conditioned to take care of yourself and follow agency directives."
"What job is that, exactly, ma'am? Because I'm getting the impression you don't mean for me to continue working in the lab."
She paused for a moment, looking at the computer screen next to her, then back over her desk at Mac. "What my supervisors propose is that you be fully brought into the organization and trained as a clandestine field operative. With your engineering and explosives expertise, you would be invaluable advancing the mission in our international theater."
A line formed across Mac's forehead and his eyes narrowed just a bit. "And what is that mission, ma'am?"
She looked at her computer again before answering and Mac got the distinct impression that someone or someones were listening to their conversation and telling her what to say. That made him extremely uncomfortable. If someone other than Thornton wanted to have this conversation with him, if the overall director of DXS wanted to talk to him about the organization, then they ought to drag their ass into this office and do so.
"To make the world a better, safer place."
"How?" Mac asked, the edge unmistakable now. He was becoming suspicious of this whole situation. He felt manipulated, but he couldn't say why or how.
"By any means necessary," Thornton answered plainly.
Mac nodded. That's sort of what he thought. Then he grinned a little. "And what you want is for me to be Double Oh Seven for you, using any means necessary, huh?" His inner twelve year old thought that was pretty cool for a second.
"Given our access to technology and the resources of just about every agency our government has to offer, I suppose that, yes, James Bond is a little bit of what we were hoping for when Dalton approached you."
Mac's grin dissolved instantly into a frown. "Was that why Jack came out to my grandfather's cabin. Was he trying to recruit me?"
Thornton actually laughed, and to Mac it sounded genuine. "Of course not. He asked for leave to check on a friend. I don't approve things like that for my agents without knowing exactly what they are doing. When I confirmed the friend was you, it seemed like an excellent opportunity. So I gave him the time."
Instead of smoothing his worry lines, that information seemed to deepen them. "Did you already know who I was?"
Not missing a beat, Thornton replied, "Dalton had been your overwatch. Of course I did. His protective instincts with you during his time in Afghanistan were the thing, probably more than any other, that made DXS offer him the job once you'd been discharged. And your talent in the field had certainly been marked. I rather let Jack in on the idea that we'd like to hire you, but not what for. I doubt he'd have participated in that, at least initially."
"I," Mac began, then just stopped, rubbing his forehead absently.
Thornton took the opening. "Mac, you would be a huge asset to the intelligence community. Once you're trained and disciplined, you could …"
Mac cleared his throat to interrupt. "What sort of training would that be?"
Thornton glanced at the computer again and the gesture made Mac swallow hard against the urge to call her on it. Then her gaze returned to him. "What you might expect, I suppose. Additional hand to hand combat training to augment what you learned in the Army, training in things like maintaining a cover, deception, intelligence gathering, more explosives training, certainly physical conditioning, resisting interrogation, conducting interrogations, resource management, weapons and firearms training …"
Mac interrupted again. "I don't use firearms, ma'am."
She flashed him a tight smile that wasn't altogether friendly this time.
"That's not really an option in this line of work Mac. You perform the job the way you're ordered to perform the job, with every tool you have available. Which often includes the use of firearms. Despite Dalton's lack of other important skills, his firearms training and mastery is one of the things that make him invaluable to our organization. Your scientific mind is what's attractive to us, be we need to know that you won't close off any avenue to completing a mission as directed."
Mac nodded slowly, which Thornton took to mean agreement, but then he spoke, revealing that it was only understanding he indicated. "I don't believe I can do that job, Director Thornton. I'm sorry to have wasted your time."
"What do you mean 'can't do the job'?" she asked sharply. "You were born to do this job."
Mac shook his head. "No ma'am. If my time in the military taught me nothing else, I at least learned that I'm not meant to break anything or anyone down. I think I need to find work that actively makes the world better. Not one that tries to attack the things bringing it down. And I'm not taking a job that uses guns. Not ever."
"You didn't seem to mind Dalton using one to protect you, either in the Army or in that warehouse the other day."
She saw her mistake the second the words left her lips.
"I did mind though, ma'am. In Afghanistan I tolerated it. I had regrets about my enlistment the first day of Basic Tr … No, before that. I had regrets almost immediately. I'm not wired to take orders, to be an unquestioning tool of someone's organization. I'm not saying there's not honor in being that person, because there is. There a few people I've ever respected like I respect Jack Dalton and at his core he is a soldier, ready to take orders and do what the higher ups need him to do, no questions asked. But that's just not me, ma'am. And I don't want it to be."
He hadn't realized he was going to say it before it came out of his mouth, but once it did, he knew it was the absolute truth. It hit him, sort of right in the middle of his chest. The sudden certainty that he needed to walk away from this.
He got to his feet, and walked around to the corner of her desk, almost smiling when Thornton turned off her computer monitor. He extended his hand. "Director, thank you for the offer, for the opportunity, but I must respectfully decline. It was a pleasure working for you in Applied Sciences. I hope I can use X-Com as a reference."
She shook his hand, but Thornton's usually neutral face couldn't conceal either her surprise or her disappointment. "You don't even want to stay on in your job in the lab?" she asked, incredulous.
"No, ma'am. I believe I'd be more comfortable in an organization where the mission statement supported the work I want to do. Building solutions, not destroying what someone else decides are problems." He released Thornton's hand. "But I can't thank you enough. Letting Jack come to me out at the cabin, allowing me to get back to work, it really got me back on track. I appreciate it. And I understand that the NDA I signed is binding even though I no longer work for you."
He heard her little almost hiccough of air at his bald statement. He almost cracked a smile. He'd just wrongfooted the Ice Queen herself (as Jack sometimes referred to his boss). There was a little satisfaction in that. She was old enough to be his mother and purportedly the world's best spy and he'd just surprised her. That was a little ego gratifying for sure.
She cleared her throat. "Of course your work with X-Com warrants a reference, Mac. And please know that you're injury is fully covered under the terms of your employment. You can continue to access our infirmary and fitness facilities for your rehab until the doctor clears you completely."
Mac smiled politely. "I appreciate that, ma'am. I think I'd rather see a private physician if I need any follow up care. I'd rather be out cleanly. I'm sure you understand."
She glanced at the computer like she forgot she'd dimmed the screen, but offered. "Then please allow us to provide you with insurance until you've fully recovered."
Knowing that would mean she could probably still access any records associated with it, he shook his head. He didn't need to be treated like government property to remember that he didn't like how that felt. "I'll be fine, ma'am."
"Would you at least allow us to defray your expenses with a severance bonus of some sort, with the understanding that you look after yourself with it, given that you were injured while in our employ?" she offered as a last ditch effort to keep Mac in the fold. The boss was not going to be happy with this turn of events at all.
Mac took a half step toward the door. "I got injured doing my own thing, ma'am. I appreciate that Jack came in and saved the day, I do. And I appreciate that DXS will continue to pursue O'Neill and his organization so I don't need to feel responsible for him. But I got hurt being foolish. I'll do the same thing I did when I cut myself with my grandfather's chainsaw a few months ago. If I need to, I'll go to the emergency room or whatever, and I'll pay the bill as I can, like millions of other Americans. But I appreciate the offer. Good luck to you. I hope you catch O'Neill sooner rather than later. He's dangerous." He turned to leave.
His hand was on the doorknob when she called out, "Mac!"
He turned back to her, but pulled the door open nonetheless. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Good luck to you as well," she offered, sounding like she really meant it.
"Thank you, Director," he replied, and then he left, walking down the hall with a surprising spring in his step, given the fairly pronounced limp that still limited him.
He was his own man again, he thought. From the moment he'd learned he was back to working for the government he'd felt oddly unsettled, constrained. Now he could figure something else out, do something that really built something new, something better, something that helped people for its own sake.
He was feeling pretty good about his situation, knowing he had money to live on from life insurance from his mother and grandfather, that he had a home and good investments. When he climbed into his Jeep his phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket and his face fell.
The text was from Jack. 'How'd it go?'
Mac decided to wait to respond. He'd rather tell Jack in person that he was once again unemployed.